


Poetry Sucks

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Bad Pseudo-Archaic Language, Comedy, Crack, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 17:18:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8925661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: That one time Vortex actually uses his office, he sends Blast Off messages… Or maybe he’s using his office just for that?Note: Inspired by this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Continuity:** G1 Dysfunction AU, pre-war  
>  **Characters:** Blast Off, Vortex, Gigabyte (OC)  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, nothing is mine.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty
> 
>  **Note:** Inspired by [this](https://twitter.com/OTPBot/status/478209016821080064).

Blast Off half listened as Gigabyte skimmed through their appointments for the day. She always insisted on it, since that time there had been a mess with the schedule, and it put her in three places at once while Blast Off was in space.

It wasn’t that Blast Off didn’t understand her. Today was quiet; all they had were two deliveries, and one appointment with a new courier later on.

Gigabyte mentioned another meeting Blast Off hadn’t heard of before, and scolded himself for not checking his appointments in advance.

He nodded towards the femme, now listening closer and bringing his main screen back online from stand-by mode.

His optics flickered at the announcement of a message from Vortex - from Vortex’ office computer. Since when did the heliformer actually work there? 

“Blast Off?” Gigabyte asked with a frown.

“Ah, yes, my apologies,” Blast Off said quickly, ignoring Vortex’ message for now. “Please prepare the meeting room for the afternoon, but don’t bother with catering or waste any of the fancy cubes. It’s in an internal meeting, everyone can bring their own drink if they think they’ll need one.” 

Gigabyte gave one of her calculated grins, and nodded. “Of course. I’ll send you the files for the meeting in good time.”

Blast Off nodded once again.

In a silent agreement that they’d developed over time, Gigabyte exited and closed the door behind her.

Now the shuttle sighed, and opened the blinking message. When it loaded, Blast Off wasn’t surprised to find merely a one-liner. He did feel some kind of bafflement, however, as he saw what the ‘copter had written.

>>> Thy thrusters’ light relumine mine laser core in enchantment. 

“What the…” Blast Off muttered, and was glad that he hadn’t started drinking before reading.

A second message appeared under the first.

>>> I was not able to avoid seeing thou received my dearest message. I’ll abide thy reply in joyful anticipation.

Blast Off groaned, and buried his face in his hand. He’d known this stupid idiot wouldn’t have let him live last night down. And last night hadn’t even been Blast Off’s fault.

It was this stupid alpha grounder, this Tower mech from Iacon in their favourite bar. Usually Vortex was the one that got those people’s attention – mostly because Vortex was asking for it, basking in alpha grounders being amazed by his bad guy attitude. 

Last night, to everyone’s surprise, Blast Off had been in the focus of the advances of a certain mech that had tried to impress him with poetry and ranting in a very old and archaic Cybertronian language.

Blast Off having been in xenological linguistic researches had been quite entertained to hear words most of society had forgotten about. It hadn’t meant that he’d felt impressed, least of all enough to go with that stranger anywhere alone.

If Blast Off was honest, the mech had struck him as a little insane. And he was probably twice as old as Blast Off himself, which meant something.

The screen blinked again.

>>> Thy chastisement of mine by ignorance is the least appealing. 

“Vector Sigma,” Blast Off mumbled to himself. Even when Vortex was using pseudo-archaic Cybertronian he insisted all the attention went to him. 

The shuttle didn’t bother to come up with a more formal reply, and wrote back.

> I think I’d made it very clear that I’m not partial to this kind of conversation.

In an afterthought, Blast Off added,

> And that I dislike poetry. 

Thinking back about the evening before, he remembered the alpha grounder all too well trying to excite him with some old poems. That was when Blast Off had lost his patience. He’d never liked poetry. All this beating around the bush with stupid rhymes. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around liking it. It was part of alpha-caste society, but so were regular repaints, and Blast Off also refused to play along with that.

He liked a good science book over poetry any day. 

And it seemed Vortex had remembered him saying that, because he wrote:

>>> Mine memory banks are not deceiving me as they informed me by thy preference of science.

Blast Off cringed at the line, and sighed when Vortex continued.

>>> I shall obey thy partiality.

After that, no more messages popped up for over a joor. Blast Off had almost forgotten about the whole stupid episode, being immersed in work, going through hangar specs on a colony he’d soon have to visit.

It was when Gigabyte pinged him a reminder for their meeting in a breem and he went to shut down his console that the messenger program blinked again.

Blast Off wasn’t sure he wanted to find out what Vortex would write him this time.

But he’d always been an explorer, and his curiosity won over the fear of bad formal Cybertronian. 

Blast Off was greeted by a poem – and science.

>>>  
Fluorine and water meet in love,  
But the threesome doesn’t last,  
Not in the combination from above.  
Oxygen is long since past.  
It sadly leaves the arrangement in vain -  
hydrogen fluoride is now their name.  
An aggressive passionate gas,  
That eats away even glass,  
And makes Tower mechs die in pain.

>>> (It took me fraggin’ ages to come up with those rhymes, you better appreciate them!) 

Reading it twice, Blast Off covered his mouth to hide the tiny grin.

After a klik of pondering, Blast Off typed.

> hydrogen fluoride doesn’t cause a reaction with glass.

>>> My pardon. Mine scientific notion surrendered to the need of a rhyme for ‘gas’. 

Blast Off almost laughed, but didn’t allow himself even the tiniest snicker as the door opened and Gigabyte peered in.

“Sir? It’s time for the… meeting?” She frowned. “Are you all right?”

Slag, Blast Off felt himself still grinning. Stupid ‘copter. “I am, thank you. I’ll be there in an astrosecond.”

“Okay,” Gigabyte said suspiciously, but nodded. She left the door open. 

Blast Off wrote swiftly on the console:

> I hope you’re home tonight because it seems I need to make you shut up and stop using bad poetic language.

>>> I shall anticipate thy arrival.

> Idiot, Blast Off wrote, but shook his head in amusement. There were worse things to look forward to.


End file.
